Unless You Show Me How
by morgangirl11
Summary: After Kate was shot, she ran away to her father's cabin, torn between needing Castle's support and wanting to keep him away from the damaged mess she'd become. When she hears a song that makes her reach out to him, will it be enough? Inspired by the song "Demons" by Imagine Dragons. AU after "Knockout."
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I own nothing. I'll leave that to Marlowe & Co., since they've been doing just fine without me.**

* * *

He had really thought she would call him. Sure, they'd had that horrible fight in her apartment, but he was certain that it had been left behind in the wake of Montgomery's death. The way she had looked at him during the eulogy was only eclipsed by the way she had looked at him as she lay bleeding in the grass. And when he had visited her in the hospital, there had been some distance, but she hadn't been angry or upset.

She said she'd call.

Now he sat in his dark office, only the light of his laptop to shine on the glass of bourbon he brought to his lips. It had been weeks and he'd heard nothing at all beyond the whispered hope that taunted him in his dreams; he realized that torture was still better than the nightmares, but the comparison was closer than it should have been. His love for her was all that kept him away, but he couldn't be sure he'd be unbroken when she returned. If she returned.

He sighed at his own melancholic musings. Of course, he supposed they were less destructive than the nights he'd let the anger control him. The nights when the alcohol burned instead of soothed, when the glass ended up shattered on the floor. The nights when he forgot the feel of her mouth open against his, or the look on her face on a hotel suite couch. The nights when he remembered that she already had someone to hold her hand or kiss away the pain, and that he wasn't actually anything at all.

Another sip and the bourbon was gone, his eyes falling shut against reality.

She might not come back.

It might not matter if she did.

* * *

She had really thought she would call him. Sure, she was still recovering, from the emotional pain as much as the physical, but he deserved better from her. She knew how she had looked at him when she had spoken at the funeral; she was pretty certain it was even more obvious when she lay dying beneath him. When he had visited her in the hospital, she had tried to keep some distance, reassuring him the only way she could in that moment.

She said she'd call.

Being away from the city while she regained her strength was probably the best thing for her. She'd broken up with Josh before she'd even been discharged from the hospital and her dad had stepped in to offer her a quiet place to stay. The cabin gave her an escape, an easy way to avoid the interaction that would have overwhelmed her. She loved her friends, but knew she wouldn't be able to fake strength long enough to spend time with them; letting herself be fragile in their presence wasn't an option.

The situation with him was so much more complicated. He would see through her immediately; he would hear the quiver in her voice. Her heart, so long shadowed by the walls of rabbit holes, had only become darker, and she wanted to protect him from that. While her wounds had mostly healed, she still felt the damage weep from her pores, and she was afraid to infect him. It didn't stop her from needing his warmth in her life.

The longing was magnified by the knowledge that they had been growing so much closer over the past several months. They'd developed a genuine friendship, a foundation for what could be an incredibly intimate relationship someday, once they were brave enough to pursue it. Now, it all looked impossible, the chance to love him falling further away with each week that passed.

Most of her days seemed to be spent the same way, drowning in her own weakness and desperately wanting him, but never able to call. Early on, she'd picked up the phone several times, only to feel the painful constriction of her chest, somehow much worse than a sniper's bullet. Forever a coward, she stopped trying. Instead, she sat curled on the couch, one of his novels in her hand, the most tangible comfort she could accept from him. Her tears fell freely. Hour after hour. Day after day.

* * *

As expected, he had gotten very little work done on the latest Nikki Heat novel, finding it difficult to write a solid plot when he was immersed in a fog of anger and grief. Pacing back and forth across the loft, by its very nature, got him nowhere. His mother and daughter had been as patient as possible, but even they had gotten tired of the incessant storm cloud he wore like a robe, encouraging him to take a deep breath and move on.

Move on? From the woman who was so deeply a part of him that he couldn't imagine leaving her behind without pieces of him being torn in the process?

Of course, he realized that the situation was largely out of his control. If she was gone, he wouldn't be able to chase her. He'd have no choice but to find his own way forward, alone. Shaking his head at the thought, he decided to get out of the city for a while, an attempt to distance himself physically from everything about her, even if it was an emotional impossibility. He had meetings late in the week, but could drive to the Hamptons on the weekend, stay there for the rest of the summer.

For someone who had always loved the city, he had an equal appreciation for the quiet of the beach. The water was powerful, yet calm; the sand rough, yet soothing. There was no guarantee the Hamptons would solve all his problems, but staying in a city so infused with memories of her would destroy him. So, he made the necessary arrangements and promised himself that he'd only be in the loft for a few more days.

* * *

In a summer seemingly full of them, it was time for her to face a new challenge. Her dad had stayed with her for the first few weeks, helping to clean and bandage her wounds, keeping her fed, reminding her to go for the excruciating walks that would help rebuild her physical endurance. By the time he left, the scars were forming, she could cook for herself, and she appreciated the fresh air. Now she was almost out of groceries and had to drive herself to the local market. The idea was daunting, so she forced herself out the door before the panic set in, before she acknowledged that starving alone might be preferable.

Looking back, that short trip changed everything.

She walked the tiny aisles and grabbed the essentials, efficient and far from picky. Being in an unfamiliar place made it difficult to breathe, the swollen mark on her chest serving as a throbbing reminder of her vulnerability. By the time she reached the cashier, she was trembling, seeking anything that could keep her mind occupied while she waited for her total. In her desperation, she latched onto the music playing through the store's crackling speakers.

Someone was singing about not being able to escape, needing to be shown how. About looking inside to where his demons hide, warning another about getting too close to see them.

It ended abruptly. Her mouth dropped open, wanting to hear more, needing to know how the singer _knew_. It was her, summed up so simply: hidden darkness. And it was him: her light.

She had no idea how long the cashier tried to get her attention before she finally shook free of the lyrics still echoing in her head. Handing her money over and collecting the groceries as quickly as possible, she made her way back to the car, gasping at the exertion. It didn't matter; she needed to hear that song. She tossed the bags into the backseat and slid behind the wheel, fumbling with the phone she had dug out of her purse. Searching the words she could remember, it only took a moment to find it.

She played it immediately and was crying by the end. After another three times through it, she was sobbing, slumped forward and trying to refill her aching lungs. She let the phone fall from her hand and took several deep breaths, knowing that she had to get back to the cabin, back to a safer place for her undeniable breakdown. She just needed to get the words out of her head long enough to drive.

By the time she was back at the cabin, her eyes were red and swollen, but at least she had managed to calm down. She put the groceries away and tucked herself into the corner of the couch, each deep breath suggesting that she was walking a fine line between stability and collapse. She couldn't remember a time that a song had so quickly affected her, held up a mirror when she had been fighting that reflection for so long. All of her haunting thoughts had been put to music, making them harder to deny.

There was no question that she was broken. And, sure, he knew some of it, had seen enough glimpses of her troubled past when they crept into her present. But this was the lowest she'd been since her mother's death and she still couldn't pick up the phone to call him. She needed him, but was clinging to a façade of self-preservation, as if there were hope of that on any path she chose.

When the idea hit her, she scrambled off the couch and hurried into her dad's makeshift office; he'd done enough work from the cabin over the years that there was definitely a chance that he'd have what she needed. She rifled through drawers until she found it, clutching the small device in her hand. Yes, she was weak, but it was all she could do. Once she sent it, the decision would be his and she wouldn't be shouldering the responsibility of making the first call. He'd understand. He always did.

* * *

By Friday night, he was exhausted, the strain of talking about Nikki Heat while his muse was lost to him was almost too much to handle. His final meeting concluded with cocktails and frivolity, normally something he could coast through on his charm alone, but all he wanted to do was get home so that he could finish packing and be ready for his drive to the Hamptons in the morning. He was done with the city.

When he returned to the loft, he didn't even pause in his office, uninterested in staring at a blank document on his laptop. He'd pack the computer in the morning and hope for motivation from the refreshing beach air. Instead, he grabbed some clothes and any of the basics he'd need for the summer and tossed them into a couple of bags. It didn't take long, and he gratefully fell into a restless sleep, dreaming about her and looking forward to the chance that those nightmares might stop.

He woke earlier than usual, eager to get on the road. As soon as he was showered and dressed, he added his toiletries to the bags and took everything out to the living room, where he could set them near the front door as a promise of his upcoming escape. Then he returned to the office to get the laptop, finally noticing the pile of mail that his mother must have left there the day before.

It was mostly junk, as usual, but one envelope caught his eye. His heart pounded as his hand slid along the manila surface, feeling the small lump contained within it. He had no idea what it might be, but he was too distracted by the handwritten address to think about it. That quick, neat penmanship had covered more murder boards than he could count, filled more case files than should be stacked in any precinct. It was from her.

Taking a deep breath, he finally tore it open and reached for the object inside. There was no note, no explanation, nothing but a nondescript flash drive. He sat down at his desk and plugged it into his computer, nervous about what she could possibly be sending to him after weeks of silence. Confused to see nothing saved to it but one MP3 file, he played it immediately, then repeated it as soon as it had finished. Their history of subtext made her musical plea clear enough and he knew what he needed to do. He shook his head and picked up the envelope again, looking for the return address.

There was no way he was still driving to the Hamptons.

* * *

A/N: Thank you for taking the time to read this. More is on the way. An extra special thank you to Allison, who trusted me with her Tumblr prompt.

Also, yes, I know that "Demons" wasn't released in the summer of 2011. I'm bending time for the sake of the fic, so I hope you can forgive me.


	2. Chapter 2

Individual days held no meaning for her while she recovered at the cabin; everything had blended together for weeks. Still, she couldn't help but note that he should have received the flash drive already. Staring at her quiet phone, not a single alert of a text or call, she questioned whether she had pushed him too far. If he had finally recognized that she wasn't worth the trouble.

Sipping at her coffee, she realized that she was going to have to get off the couch and do something, _anything _that might stop her from reaching for his books as she wondered how much she had fucked up with him. Maybe a dip in the lake, sunbathing on the dock, or a long walk that would test her unsteady body. She stood up, holding onto the waistband of her baggy yoga pants and sighing at everything she'd become, startled out of the wistfulness by a hesitant knock at the door.

There was no doubt who it was, though she wanted to kick herself for not realizing that he might forgo the phone entirely, forcing a deeper conversation as soon as she gave him the opening. Part of her wanted to ignore the knock and pretend she wasn't there, but she knew that was exactly what had led them down this road in the first place. Instead, she shook her head at the anxiety and moved to let him in.

She opened the door and stared into his familiar eyes, the blue unchanged, even as the rest of his face looked like it had crumpled around them. She bit back a gasp, knowing she had done that to him, wanting so badly to smooth away the pain with her shaky fingertips. The song had been a way to reach for him, to bring him close so that he could help her heal; perhaps they'd have to heal each other.

She had no idea if she was strong enough for that, but she loved him enough to try.

"Hi, Castle."

He blinked repeatedly, seemingly unsure of what he was doing there, so she stepped back and gave him room to join her inside. It took another few seconds, but he followed her lead and left the uncertainty of the porch behind. He was wearing jeans and a t-shirt, a casualness she hadn't witnessed often, but it worked for him, even as the creased brow didn't.

"Can I get you something to drink?" It was overly simplistic, given everything that really needed to be said, but she was getting desperate for some sort of interaction.

At his nod, she hurried toward the refrigerator and grabbed two bottles of water. He was still staring at her when she handed his over, but they both flinched when their fingers brushed against each other. _Shit._ Nothing had changed, even when everything had. They moved to the couch and sat too far apart, but it was enough in that moment.

When they opened their mouths to speak at the same time, it resulted in an incoherent mess of sounds and awkward smiles. She gestured for him to continue.

He cleared his throat, searching for his voice, a confused look on his face when he suddenly looked around the room and seemed to change whatever he'd been about to say. "Has Josh been staying with you?"

Oh, god. His question was forced, rough and agonizing, and it was just one more reminder of how stupid she'd been. He had no idea.

"No." His eyes flickered at that, but he stayed quiet. "We broke up before I left the city." She wasn't sure why she held back the fact that the relationship ended within minutes of her lie to the man seated next to her now. Or that it was actually over long before that.

"Have you been alone this whole time?" The idea seemed to break him, and he looked away quickly.

She reached for his free hand in response, resting her palm on the back of it, but afraid to hold him any closer. She didn't really have that right. "No, my dad was here for a few weeks."

He nodded slowly, taking in the information, but still avoiding eye contact. At least he hadn't pulled his hand from beneath hers. They were silent for quite a while, until the next words tumbled from his mouth.

"You sent me a song."

"I did."

"Why?"

She sighed. It felt like they were jumping into the deep end, but the sincerity of his question helped her stay afloat. Barely. "Did you listen to it?"

"Several times."

Sitting next to him was too much all of a sudden, so she got up and paced the tiny living room. "So then you understand, right? You already know."

"Know what, Kate?"

She was scared to death, but managed to look over her shoulder at him as she whispered. "That all the songs make sense."

While he said nothing, the darkening of his eyes was enough to acknowledge that he'd heard her. She couldn't breathe anymore, part of her lungs seemingly torn open with the quiet admission, and she opened the back door of the cabin in the hopes of finding the fresh air she needed. When it wasn't enough, she started walking down the wooden steps and toward the lake. The grass was soft beneath her bare feet, but she didn't stop to enjoy it, making her way to the small dock she used to fish from when she was just a kid. Sitting there, dangling her feet above the water, had soothed her so many times over the past several weeks and she desperately needed that balm now.

Subtlety had never been his strong point, so she heard him approach several minutes later, his shoes and socks left behind. He lowered himself to the dock and pressed himself close, the sides of their bodies aligned. Her hand was busy playing with a loose string on her pants, but he pulled it into his lap, threading their fingers together. He was already braver than she was.

"You keep running away from me."

The light squeeze against her hand eased the sting of the truth, but she couldn't respond yet. She wondered if he would keep talking, digging deeper until he was caught up on the mystery of the past several weeks, but he settled into the silence alongside her. They simply absorbed the late morning sun, holding hands and allowing everything else to wait until later.

She wasn't sure how long they stayed there, but the growl of her stomach eventually interrupted. She laughed it off, but he didn't hesitate to stand, helping her up in the next moment. Rolling her eyes, she let him lead her back to the cabin and into the kitchen. It wasn't until he started rummaging through the cabinets that she had to stop him. He was going to push her too hard and she felt the panic claw at her chest.

"I can take care of lunch, Castle."

She knew he didn't trust that, having spent too many days at the precinct watching her eat nothing more than a handful of questionable snacks. But this wasn't the precinct. Not even close.

"Seriously, I'm perfectly capable of feeding myself."

He raised an eyebrow and looked down at the yoga pants that were still threatening to slide away from her too-thin waist. "Your hipbones are telling a different story."

It was said softly, full of care and lacking in judgment, but it didn't matter. She snapped.

"Gee, thanks for the astute observation. Your reminder that I look like shit was exactly what I needed." She slammed one of the cabinets shut and turned on him, unable to hold back. "You have no idea what it's been like for me. How violently ill I was from the pain meds that I had to take just to be able to move. How I barely had the energy to open my eyes, much less sit up long enough to eat the food my dad had given me. How anything I _did_ eat was eventually spent fueling the walks I had to start taking so that I didn't go crazy staring at the same four walls every day."

If she thought her yelling might get him to back off, she was wrong. Very, very wrong. All of the hesitation he'd brought with him to the cabin was gone in an instant.

"No, Kate, I have no idea what it was like for you because you didn't let me in. That was _your_ choice, and you don't get to hold it over my head now. _You_ disappeared. _You_ never called like you said you would. And now you want to throw it in my face that I have no idea what you've been through? No. You have no idea what _I've_ been through."

With that, he spun away from her and stormed out of the cabin, slamming the front door behind him. She listened for the rumble of a starting car, the shower of gravel kicked up by spinning tires, but heard nothing. It meant she might have a chance to stop him, to beg him to stay; the broken sob forced from her throat kept her from moving at all. Maybe the chasm was too wide now. She'd waited too long and hurt him too deeply to think that she could just sit down on a dock and let the ripples of the lake carry the past away.

Brushing back her tears with an angry hand, she focused on finding something she might be able to eat even as she cried. It took her much longer than usual to choke down some soup, her breathing uneven. But by the time she was done, she'd made a decision, dropping the bowl into the sink and splashing water on her face before squaring her shoulders and taking the first steps away from her own pride and toward the man she couldn't let go.

He could have been anywhere, walking through the woods, staring out at the lake, or sitting in his car with the key ready to turn; she found him rocking in the large porch swing, still barefoot and breathtaking, one arm extended along the back as if he were waiting for someone to join him. If he hadn't left yet, she supposed he wouldn't do it now, but she was still relieved when he let her crowd into him, unable to resist the pull she'd felt for years.

She didn't give herself time to second-guess what she'd planned to say, a deep breath her only preparation. "You're right, and you and I both know that. I ran away and nothing I say now will make that better, but I'm still sorry. I could tell you about the hundred times I reached for my phone and wanted to hear your voice, but that doesn't change the fact that I broke my promise to call. I could tell you that I clung to your books every day because I couldn't cling to you, but I know you would have held me if I had just asked. When I heard that song, it hurt so much because it's all true, but I saw my chance to finally find my way back. I've been a coward, but I want to be more, better. You deserve that…and maybe I do, too."

Her tears were back, but her words scared her more than the idea that he was watching her cry; it was the most honest she'd ever been about them. When his arm fell to her shoulders and pulled her close against him, her eyes shut and she let her wet cheek rest on his chest, her legs curling under her body. She felt him kiss the top of her head, his breath warm against her hair as he spoke.

"Even before you sent me that song, I knew why you fight me so hard. You think you're too damaged to be worthy of anyone's love, and that it's your responsibility to protect everyone else just as much as you're protecting yourself. That as much as you need light, you'll stay alone in your darkness to prevent others from being dimmed." His fingers trailed up and down her arm, soothing her while he split her open. "Here's the problem with that: you hold tight to control of your life, but you forget that everyone else gets to control theirs, too. Your life isn't my jungle gym, but my life isn't your marionette. I couldn't stop you from running straight for the bullet that almost killed you, but you can't make decisions on my behalf either. I'm already deep in this, and none of your supposed demons are enough to keep me away."

At some point, her hand had become twisted in his shirt and she didn't let go. "I'm going to need help. I'm going to screw up and run and hide and forget everything you've just said."

She swore she could feel his smile, just before another gentle kiss against her head.

"Then I guess it's a good thing I'll be right here to remind you."

* * *

A/N: Thank you for all of the follows/favorites/reviews after chapter one. Each and every one was truly appreciated! More to come...


	3. Chapter 3

The silence that followed their talk slowly transitioned into the soft snoring of the woman he loved. He hoped that their moment of honesty had lightened the burden she'd held for so long, allowing her to rest properly. She needed it. Her relaxed body had slid down the length of the swing as she fell asleep; now her head was in his lap and his fingers stroked her hair with a tenderness he'd wanted to share with her forever.

The realization that he'd only driven up to the cabin that morning had him shaking his head. They'd barely spoken, yet it felt like their relationship had changed significantly. He thought back to his drive, all the trepidation and desire that fought for his attention during his hours behind the wheel. Then there was the awkwardness of his arrival, when he'd first seen her frail body and tired eyes. He'd felt tortured at the time, unable to make her pain go away while he held to the last tendrils of resentment; looking down at her now, blanketed by tranquility, he knew it was all worth it. She was right, she'd screw up, but so would he. It would just take more communication, more of what they'd accomplished on that swing.

He looked out at the peaceful woods around them, grateful for whatever healing nature had given her so far. Sure, she was thin, but she seemed to be moving well enough, and he was willing to be her crutch until she got even stronger. After this amount of time, her wounds had to have improved, so he wasn't terribly concerned with them hindering her progress. She seemed exhausted, but he attributed that to the way she liked to run herself into the ground, whether she was at the precinct or not. Now that he was here to help slow her down, the dark circles under her eyes should disappear.

When she stirred, his hand stilled. He managed to pull it away entirely when she sat up in an embarrassed rush, her eyes darting around as if she needed to reorient herself. Maybe she did.

"Castle? Oh, god. I fell asleep on you."

He couldn't help the smile spreading across his face, more adoring than teasing. "I've been told I make a good pillow."

She smacked him on the arm, but looked relieved that he wasn't going to give her a hard time about her impromptu nap. She shook her head and stood up, her body swaying at the movement. He reached for her hips immediately, steadying her even as he swallowed back the worry bubbling inside him. Her head dipped in shame, probably distraught that the physical strength she so often relied upon was still letting her down, so he stood right behind her and took her hand to lead her inside.

It wasn't the time to say anything; any reassurance would seem like a useless recitation of platitudes. Instead, he guided her to the couch and left her alone long enough to get two more bottles of water from the fridge. When he returned, they fell into comfortable small talk, including a lot of picking around the pain to find topics that didn't dwell on how much they'd missed each other for the past several weeks. She seemed to keep a careful distance between them, probably still shy about having slept in his lap.

Eventually, she started fidgeting, something clearly on her mind, though she didn't seem eager to give it up. He helped her along.

"You know you can tell me or ask me anything."

She was fumbling with that same loose string on her pants again. "It's, um, getting later. Do you have to get home to Alexis? Dinner plans or anything?"

Now it was his turn to get antsy, unsure of what to say. He didn't want the truth to erase any of what they'd managed to repair, but honesty was his only option if he was going to expect the same of her.

"Actually, no, Alexis isn't expecting me back." She looked at him expectantly, knowing there was more to it than that, so he continued. "Being in the city was getting to be too much to handle. There was a lot on my mind and I needed a break so that I could get back to writing. So, before I got that envelope from you, I was packed and ready to go to the Hamptons for the rest of the summer. My bags are still in the car because I wasn't sure whether you'd want me here for more than a few minutes, if you even let me in at all."

There had been a flash of emotion in her eyes at his mention of the Hamptons, but she recovered quickly. "Well, I let you in and you're still here. So what are your plans now?"

"I'm just a guest, so I think it's up to you." He smiled wide, but then got serious, wanting her to understand that he would be okay with any decision she made. "I can leave now. I can stay for dinner and leave after that. Or, if you want me to, I can spend the night on this couch and you can show me around these woods of yours tomorrow."

She sighed and stared at her lap, overwhelmed by such straightforward options, probably weighing the pros and cons of each one. He reached for her chin and tipped her head back up gently. "Kate, just be honest. What do you want?"

"I want you to stay the night." It was nothing but a whisper, but it was the truth, and he closed his eyes in relief.

From there, neither seemed eager to move, but she eventually got up to start dinner. When he retrieved his bags, she let him know that there was an extra bedroom, so he wasn't stuck with a restless night on the couch. He couldn't suppress his smile when she left the boiling water on the stove and showed him his room; less than 24 hours ago he was desperate for the chance to leave thoughts of her behind, but now he was going to be sleeping several feet away from her with a hint of a domesticity that he'd only imagined.

They spent the remainder of the evening debating the merits of different pasta sauces and whether anything he cooked could truly rival her mother's recipes. They talked about their favorite holidays, worst hangovers, and silliest clothing purchases. They argued about vacation preferences, Quentin Tarantino movies, and celebrity crushes. Some of the topics had come up before and some were new revelations, but all of it was welcome. There may have been a mutual understanding to avoid the seriousness of anything that had been admitted earlier in the day, but he was content to be let into her world in any way she found comfortable.

When he saw her stifle a yawn, he smiled and reached for her hand, the most contact since she'd asked him to stay. "You know, I was up pretty early this morning and that bed you showed me looks incredibly welcoming. I think it's probably time for me to get some sleep."

She nodded gratefully. "Sounds good to me, too."

They walked down the short hall together, parting at his door. As much as he wanted to wrap her in his arms and breathe in everything he'd missed all summer, he knew she wasn't ready for that. He simply smiled and retreated, closing the door with a soft click and a sigh. He'd have more time with her tomorrow, and that promise was enough for sweet dreams.

* * *

The following day was everything he could have wanted, though he acknowledged that they were still tiptoeing around anything terribly honest. It was as if they needed to recover from their progress as much as they needed to recover from their hurt, so he let it all slide and merely enjoyed her company.

She let him make breakfast before they went hiking around her father's property; he didn't miss that she moved more slowly than normal, but he wasn't about to point it out, grateful that he was allowed any glimpse at her ongoing struggle. They swam in the lake and relaxed on the dock before their picnic lunch. When she went inside to nap, he set up his laptop in the living room and worked on the book he'd ignored for too long. Once she was back up, they shared more stories and memories, interrupted only when she reached for him with a nervous hand and a furrowed brow and asked him to stay another night. It was such a silly question from his perspective. He'd stay with her forever if she'd let him. His restrained joy and agreement to spend the night led them into dinner, more talking, and a reluctant separation when she began to wear down.

Each day followed the same general pattern, a stirring together of nature and them. After a few more nights, she stopped asking him to stay; they both knew he was going to. Their time outside, whether walking through the trees or floating in the lake, was always quiet, as though the wind might carry their spoken truths further away than they were ready to accept. Instead, conversations were kept inside the cabin, the walls containing the words that fell from their lips.

Strangely, though perfectly, any physical connection between them was just the opposite. When indoors, they stayed carefully apart, letting their voices tangle when nothing else could. Outside, his hand welcomed hers, she leaned against him and allowed him to press kisses into her hair, and his fingers brushed away the strands that tickled her cheek. Most of her naps had her tucked away in her bedroom while he wrote from the couch, but when they were still on the picnic blanket, she curled into him and let his heartbeat carry her someplace safe.

He knew his arms were safe for her, simply because she was quiet when she slept there. Her time alone in her bedroom, in the afternoons or overnight, was peppered with pleas, whimpers, and cries that tore him apart. Though he'd never been bold enough to open the door and comfort her, he'd spent plenty of time sitting guard in the hall, waiting until her private hell had fallen silent again.

Nightmares seemed to be filed away in the category of things they still didn't talk about, though he realized something had to give eventually. There was only so long that they'd be able to play this game as the line between friendship and more became increasingly blurred.

Sure enough, they reached their breaking point on another quiet day by the lake.

* * *

A/N: Continued thanks for all of the support for this story!


	4. Chapter 4

He'd been at the cabin with her for more than two weeks, and she found herself unable to voice her gratitude for everything he'd done for her in that time. She still felt the insistent tug of her scars, was slowed by the strain of her lungs, and got lost in the imagined pain of her dreams; none of those mattered much when he was beside her, his mere presence enough to keep her from drowning in the darkness.

Since that first day, when a flood of honesty had surprised both of them, they hadn't discussed the specific topic of where they stood, or what they were becoming. They'd shared an overwhelming number of personal stories, laughing through more conversations than she could count, but there was still nothing quite like the secrets they still kept hidden.

Burying things deep inside wasn't healthy, but it was comfortable.

She inhaled deeply, looking out at the lake as they walked in sync, their hands clasped together. They were barefoot and found themselves walking through the cold water that lapped quietly at their ankles, enjoying the silence and each other's company as they had every day since his arrival. Their routine was so peaceful, but she broke it apart in the most innocent way. Maybe it needed to be broken.

Without warning, she pulled away from him and kicked at the calm surface of the lake, sending a cascade of water across the front of his t-shirt and shorts. He was obviously shocked, but only took a moment to recover, kicking the water back at her with an evil grin on his face. She threw her head back and laughed, even as a chill tripped down her body; she wasn't sure whether it was the cold or something else entirely.

Together they waded deeper, bending over to use their hands in the ongoing splash battle, soaked though their clothes before either could stop to worry about it. By the time he dragged her all the way into the lake, it didn't matter anymore. They had their arms wrapped around each other when their eyes locked, so many unspoken desires spilling between them.

When he kissed her, it was nothing like their first, so feverish and needy. No, this one was soft and lazy, as if they had all the time in the world. She might have been able to narrate her way through it, if her mind weren't so muddled by the sensations coursing through her body. Still, she noted the tenderness of his lips against hers, his unwillingness to push her too quickly. The way he carefully opened to her when she was ready, letting her tongue tentatively touch his while she moaned at the contact. His tongue chased the sound she made, deep inside her mouth and still so gentle.

She could have stayed there forever, buoyed by him in so many ways, but she felt him walking them back toward the shore, even while keeping their bodies pressed close together. He lowered her to the ground beneath him and looked at her with such reverence; it was far too much and she cupped his face in her hands to bring him back to her.

"God, Kate. I-" She didn't let him finish his thought, breathed so warmly against her lips, insisting on another kiss instead.

He eventually pulled away again, this time to kiss along her jawline and up toward her ear, sucking the sensitive spot just beneath it. Then he moved back down, his mouth exploring the lines of her neck as she arched into him, her arousal less physically obvious, but just as intense as his.

The distraction of having him so close slowed down her reaction time and she almost missed it entirely when he reached for the hem of her t-shirt, the wet fabric clinging to her body until he began to peel it away. The warmth of his hand on her bare skin was enough to shock her back to reality and she couldn't let him go any further.

"Stop!" The pure panic in her voice was startling, even to her own ears, and she bit her lip to keep the rest inside.

There was no hesitation from him, his hand freezing against her hip until he rolled away from her completely. "Kate? What happened?"

She tried to breathe through her answer, ashamed and scared all at once. "I can't let you look."

"At your scars." There was no question there, but she nodded anyway, refusing to make eye contact. He kept his distance, clearly afraid to spook her again, continuing with a sigh. "I told you that I'm already in this. If your demons can't keep me away, why would some scars? They're part of you and that makes them everything to me. They are signs of your strength, your will, and your beauty…a beauty that extends far beyond the obvious. If you think I spent the last several minutes kissing you because I'm under the delusion that you're some unblemished treasure, you're wrong. But there is no wound of yours, physical or emotional, that will make me stop wanting you. It's far too late for that."

Everything he said was sincere, of that she had no doubt, but it didn't stop her from needing to run. His love for her was unwavering, even if she wasn't strong enough to accept it in that moment, and she could only hope that he'd forgive another weakness. Mumbling an excuse, she eased herself off the ground and found her way into the cabin before he could see her cry.

The rest of the afternoon and evening were full of a new tension, avoidance at its best. After changing into dry clothes, she stayed locked in her room for as long as possible so that she wouldn't have to see the ache she had almost certainly etched into his handsome face. When she did need to grab some food, he read her as well as always and retreated to his room with his laptop, giving her the space needed, even as she didn't want it at all.

Her night wasn't any more comfortable, filled with some of the worst nightmares she'd had since retreating to the cabin. Most of them featured some version of her naked and alone; some went even further and had his sad eyes closing as he walked away. She tossed and turned, wept and shivered, but came to a decision as the sun began to rise. Neither of them deserved any more of this.

The firm knock on her bedroom door made her jump, too lost in her own thoughts to have heard his footsteps in the hall. She had known he was up, the smell of bacon unmistakable, but couldn't believe that he was actually pursuing a conversation after she'd shut him down so soundly the day before. She scrambled to sit up in bed, but still couldn't find her voice. Eventually, he cleared his throat and spoke up before she could.

"Um, Kate, I made breakfast for you, so help yourself whenever you're ready. I'm all packed up and I'm gonna head back to the city this morning. I meant everything I did and said yesterday and you can call me anytime if you want to talk, but maybe I pushed too hard and I'm sorry."

He fell silent and solidified her earlier decision. She pushed herself out of bed and opened her door to find him picking up his bags from the hallway, his body weighed down by more than luggage. Whether he heard her, or simply sensed her appearance, he turned to look over his shoulder.

She had to say something.

"Please don't go. At least not yet." He looked confused and she couldn't blame him. "I want to show you something first and then you can leave after that if you want to."

If she were completely honest, she didn't think he'd ever leave her if he knew she wanted him close. Still, giving him an out was the best way to protect herself. She went back into her bedroom and gestured for him to follow. And he did. He was incredibly hesitant, even more so as she stepped toward him, but he stood tall with his hands clenched at his sides.

His eyes didn't leave hers as she began to pull her camisole over her head, but he did reach for her hand to stop her before she exposed much skin. "Stop, Kate. I'm not leaving because you won't take off your shirt for me."

"I know and that's why I need to do this." She shook her head, trying to get the words right. "You should be able to see my scars because you've already seen everything deeper than them. You know what I've got hidden underneath, and you still care enough to be standing in front of me now. I want to share them with you, even if I'm struggling to share the rest."

The understanding and acceptance on his face kept her strong, even as she trembled with anticipation. There to shoulder any burden of hers that he could, he helped guide her hands as they held tightly to the fabric, bringing them up and over her head. Then he took the camisole from her and tossed it to the bed, still staring into her eyes despite her being completely bare from the waist up. When both of his hands rested carefully on her hips, he leaned forward to kiss her forehead.

"You're beautiful."

She couldn't help the tears that filled her eyes, but still managed to respond. "You haven't even looked at me yet."

"I've been looking at you for years."

Afraid to hear anything else, she took one of his hands in hers and moved it up her side, finding her surgical scar and letting his fingertips soothe the raised skin. She let him explore it for a moment, watching closely as his eyes fought through a dozen emotions in those few seconds. When he finally settled onto something more peaceful, she moved his hand to the scar between her breasts, a puckered circle representing more than either of them wanted to put to words.

She pressed his fingers against it, knowing that he could feel her pounding heartbeat just below the surface, and they stayed lost together in that rhythm for quite a while. His eyes didn't leave hers until he slowly bent down and replaced their hands with his lips, his thumbs brushing against the sides of her breasts as he held her still. The kiss had absolutely nothing to do with sex, yet it was the most intimate experience of her life. It broke her, and she let the tears fall.

When he straightened again, she wrapped her arms around him and pulled him as close as possible, her bare chest pressed against the warmth of his. She cried against his shoulder and let herself be calmed by the way he combed his fingers through her sleep-tangled hair.

Finally taking a step back, she looked up at him with a touch of the insecurity that might never leave her alone, but he just smiled down at her, his fingers wiping away the last few tears. She worried about what he'd say, whether there might be pity in his eyes, but his simple words made everything okay.

"Are you ready for some breakfast?"

* * *

A/N: I've been so touched by the response to this story. This was a challenge for me and I appreciate all the encouragement I've received, so thank you all very much! Just one more chapter to go...


	5. Chapter 5

After such an emotional morning, they settled into a quietly happy day together, his bags unpacked when he agreed to stay with her. Over the next week, they found their routine again, with one significant difference: they no longer kept their conversation and physical contact separated.

Their walks included laughter and teasing through the trees, races and games getting more fun as her endurance continued to build. Dips in the lake turned into wrestling matches in the chilly water, settled more often with innocent kisses than obvious domination, even as they traded serious stories from their pasts. Sunbathing had them holding hands and engaging in a domestically mundane back and forth that might have bored anyone else.

Whenever they were back inside the cabin, they found themselves wrapped together in ways that couldn't be considered platonic, even if they weren't ready to label the specific changes between them. He'd read paragraphs from his latest chapters to her as she fell asleep curled into his side; she'd entertain him with stories of her mom while they giggled through the home videos they'd found. At the end of each day, they'd part with a kiss, promising each other tomorrow.

Everything was going so well, but they couldn't deny that the end of summer would be upon them soon, and her medical leave was almost over. They sat down to have an honest talk and decided that he would leave the next day, giving her a week alone at the cabin before she had to get back to the city and make arrangements for her reinstatement. He'd be lying if he said he wasn't nervous to test their new boundaries outside of the privacy they'd shared, especially when he still wasn't sure what their relationship had become, but their time was up.

After a quiet dinner, neither of them interested in small talk, he brought her out to the dock. She gasped at the sight of the pile of blankets and pillows he'd arranged for them, a veritable bed from which they'd be able to say goodbye to the stars.

He was pretty proud of himself.

They got settled and automatically reached for each other, hands clasped together and heads only inches apart. The soft stroke of their fingers against each other was the only sign that neither had fallen asleep, even as their breathing was slow and deep. Considering how much she valued silence, he was shocked when she interrupted it with a quiet request.

"Say it again. Please."

His thumb froze against the back of her hand and he held his breath. He could play dumb, pretend he didn't have any idea what she wanted him to say. Honestly, it was a bit of leap and it would have certainly confused anyone else. Still, he'd been observing her far too closely and didn't miss the flinch of her fingers; they telegraphed the same anxiety as her eyes had when she had denied remembering anything in the hospital. He hadn't completely believed her then, and she was only confirming his doubt now.

She knew exactly what he had confessed to her after she'd been shot.

There was no refusing her and drawing it out would only make it worse, but he had no idea why she would bring it up now. He couldn't turn to look at her, even as he felt her eyes on him, choosing to whisper into the sky instead, letting the air safely swallow his words.

"I love you, Kate."

The air didn't end up swallowing his words. She did.

She had rolled over, her body aligned with his as she kissed him with a combination of gratefulness and need. He gave back everything she offered, tentatively holding her close and opening himself for her to breathe a response into his mouth.

"I love you, too."

He reached for her waist, helping to lift her on top of him, their legs stretched out together while they continued to kiss. Feeling the weight of her body pressed into his was simultaneously comforting and arousing, and he wasn't sure he'd ever get enough of her. Attentive as always, he catalogued all the ways she kissed him; the hunger when she slid her tongue into his mouth and let it tease him with the promise of more, the needy moan when his tongue returned the favor, the soft sucking of his lower lip just after she nipped it with her teeth, and the tender way she barely brushed their mouths together the second before she pulled away.

The heat from her was becoming increasingly hard to ignore, even with clothing between them, and he shifted their bodies until his thigh rested between hers. His hands were tangled in her hair, but he left the soft strands behind to trail his fingertips down her back and onto her hips, feeling her shiver in response. Bracketing her thin waist, he helped her rock against him, their mouths still meeting in an amazingly slow kiss that might never end.

Eventually, he felt her focus slip, her tongue less graceful and her breathing more irregular. He let his lips skate across her cheek until he found her ear, whispering encouragement into her skin. When her head fell onto his shoulder, her cry muffled by his shirt, he wrapped her arms around her and held her to his chest.

Once her heartbeat had found its rhythm again, she pushed herself up and glanced at him with a shy smile; he returned it, and probably would for the rest of his life. He chased the smile with a quick kiss before rolling them over on the blankets, watching her closely as he reached for the hem of her shirt. While she had already exposed her scars to him, he knew this was different, and he wasn't about to mess it up again.

Seeing no hesitation in her eyes, only the trust he hoped he deserved, he lifted the shirt over her head and tossed it toward the grass. Then he tucked his thumbs into her waistband and dragged downward until her long body was bare beneath him, lit only with the brilliance of the stars.

Kneeling on the blankets, he removed his own shirt, even as she rose to tug his pants away, causing him to do an awkward balancing act that couldn't be called attractive. It was clumsy, but the moment allowed them to laugh away some of the nervousness that neither wanted to admit. And he couldn't deny that it was so perfectly _them._

"Castle."

His name, falling from her tongue with so much need, brought him back to her. To the line they were about to cross. He supposed they'd crossed the more important line long ago, before either was willing to acknowledge it.

They were together in the next second. Home.

Careful not to make her bear his weight, he supported himself on one forearm, cupping her cheek with his free hand when he saw that her eyes had fallen shut. He leaned down for another deep kiss, letting their connection simmer while he made his quiet plea.

"Open your eyes for me. Let me see you."

He knew how hard that would be for her, so many of their struggles based upon her fear of him looking too closely, but he didn't want her to be afraid anymore. Her darkness wouldn't push him away. When her eyelids fluttered open and she finally let him look, he disguised his relieved sigh with the slow slide of his body.

There was no way to tell how long they danced, their breathless moans an imprecise measurement. They were unhurried, able to continue kissing as they moved, the burn between them sweetly countered by the cool night. He held her gaze while his free hand pulled one of hers away from his waist; his palm coasted along the underside of her arm as he lifted it above her head, pressing it into the blankets with their fingers intertwined.

That slight push for control made her gasp, so he followed her cues and went in search of more of those perfectly content noises spilling from her mouth. He was selfish and wanted to be the one to give her everything she deserved, to be there to catch her when she fell. She was getting closer, her eyes hazy and pleading. He was ready, too.

The arm that had been holding him above her shifted enough to allow him to cradle the back of her head; his other arm let go of hers and slipped under her hips to lift her closer. He was fully embracing her, carrying her to the end.

Finally, she asked and he answered. She stilled and he moved. She stared and he mirrored. She let go and he held on.

It wasn't until she had recovered that he allowed her to lead him the rest of the way. He followed her as eagerly as he had for years, breathing her name in harmony with the pounding of their hearts. He was careful to keep his weight off her, even braced by a shaky arm, but lowered himself enough to let their mouths meet again, finishing the same way they had started.

They eventually separated, but didn't say a word; their bodies had spoken for them. He helped her up and wrapped her in one of the blankets, doing the same for himself a moment later. Gathering the rest of the blankets, pillows, and clothes, they made their way back to the cabin, not stopping until they had reached her bedroom.

As soon as their arms were empty, he pulled her in for a hug, her head tucked under his chin and their naked bodies pressed close again. He felt her smile against his chest.

"Was this your clever way to make me keep you here for another week?"

He stepped back and put his hand over her heart. "No. It was my way to make you keep me _here_ for much longer."

Her head was thrown back by the force of her laughter, the sound of which he'd never tire. "Oh my god, Castle. Do you have plans to use that quote in the next Nikki Heat? Because you know there's a chance that she'd hit Rook if he tried that ridiculous line on her."

"You haven't hit me yet."

"You're lucky that afterglow makes me a pacifist."

He kissed her for that, amazed at the smiling beauty blossoming before him. How far she'd come, and how much further they'd be able to go together.

* * *

In the morning, he packed his bags and returned to the city as they had planned. While neither of them wanted to be apart, he still thought it would be a good idea for her to have the time to herself, a chance to regroup before she had to be Detective Beckett again. They exchanged texts every day and spoke each night, unwilling to sever their newfound connection completely, and she met him at the loft for dinner the evening she got back.

He stayed out of her way while she completed the required steps for her reinstatement, but supported her from afar. She got back in touch with Lanie and the boys, her friends welcoming her home with open arms and some gentle teasing, and she invited him to breakfast with her dad, a step that he knew meant a lot to her. There were still uncertain moments, times when she'd back up and he'd nudge her forward, but there was no doubt that they'd both grown.

On the day she was due to return to work, they woke up in each other's arms, as they seemed to do more often than not. Once they had showered together and dressed side by side, they drove to the precinct, relieved to be going to the 12th for the first time as a couple, a lifetime having passed since the last time they were there.

As she was parking, the radio interrupted with a familiar tune; he was surprised when she turned it off so easily, looking at her with the raised eyebrow of an unspoken question. She leaned over for a quick kiss before answering against his lips.

"I'm letting the demons go."

* * *

A/N: I apologize for sounding like a broken record, but THANK YOU so much for all of your kindness throughout this story. You've been a fantastic encouragement for me and I'm so glad that I could write this for all of you. We've come to the end of this one, but there are always more stories to be told.

~morgan


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